


Hot Patootie

by mymoonagedaydream



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 60's Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28505109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mymoonagedaydream/pseuds/mymoonagedaydream
Summary: You’d started to lose faith in the city you loved so much, then you met someone who breathed new life into it.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Hot Patootie

> _Lower Manhattan, New York. Summer, 1967._

A loud thump against the wall jolted you awake. The neighbours were fighting again.

You lazily rubbed your eyes and pulled in a deep breath, almost choking on the thick, warm air that had been stagnating in your bedroom overnight.

Hauling yourself onto your feet, you clumsily ambled across the room. Your head was pounding and your mouth was bitter with the taste of stale cigarette smoke. You heaved the window open, ignoring the chips of white paint falling to the floor around you, and leant as far as you could through the gap.

For a few peaceful moments, you closed your eyes and breathed in the city.

To a small-town bumpkin like yourself, New York was a colossal and terrifying wonderland, a tidal wave that could easily swallow you whole if you didn’t have the gumption to keep your head above the water.

But you’d always longed to take the dive.

So, when a family friend had mentioned in passing their cheap, empty rental in The East Village, you practically jumped at the chance. The place was cramped and crooked, two of the windows wouldn’t close all the way and you were pretty sure there were rats living in the walls, but you were willing to put up with all of that if it meant you could live your dream.

And, at first, you did.

At first, the Village’s beatnik community of hipsters and juvenile delinquents was fresh and alluring but, after a while, it all became a little stale. 

Everyone around you was so desperate to achieve individuality that they inevitably converged into perfect replicas of one another- you couldn’t throw a bottle cap out your window without hitting someone who bore passing resemblance to Bob Dylan.

So, struggling to find motivation or inspiration, you just spent your days on the couch smoking Virginia Slims and your nights haunting some of Greenwich’s dingy music cafés.

The warm morning slowly turned into a close, clammy summer evening, beads of sweat forming on your brow as you trudged through the soupy air.

Turning onto 2nd Avenue, you had to dive from the path of a young mother with a stroller, her heels rapidly clicking at the end of her long, pale legs as a cigarette hung precariously from the side of her mouth. She took no notice of your irritated frown.

As you paused to recollect yourself, you felt your gaze gravitating towards a tall, broad greaser with suede blue eyes and a roguish smirk, leaning against the bonnet of an open-top Ford Mustang. He was intently watching everyone who passed by him, his face periodically obscured by clouds of thick smoke. 

A bolt of white-hot anticipation shot down your spine when his eyes met yours.

You were eager to chase that feeling.

He dropped his cigarette butt, crushing it under his black leather boot before taking a step towards you.

‘Where you headed, darlin’?’ His thick Brooklyn accent spilled out of his mouth like molasses, bright pink lips curling into a wicked smile as he awaited your response.

‘Greenwich.’ You stopped a few feet in front of him. ‘Why, you looking for some company?’

‘Somethin’ like that, yeah.’

Doing your best not to blush under his intense stare, you let your gaze dance past him and over cherry-red paintwork of his car, wondering to yourself how easy it would be to just say _fuck it_ and hop in.

‘Greenwich is just beats and hippies, bunch o’ posers.’ He took another step as he spoke, almost coming toe to toe with you. 'I could show you the real city.'

‘Is that right?’

‘Mhmm. It’s just across the bridge.’

His eyes glistened with expectation as you considered the offer. 

On the one hand, you’d moved to New York with the assumption that you had common sense enough to stay out of trouble, and he was definitely trouble.

On the other hand, you were an absolute sucker for a great smile in a pair of Levi’s.

‘Alright, why not.’

He grinned, taking a few steps backwards and gesturing his head towards the passenger seat. You strolled over and tugged the door open, ignoring the empty liquor bottles in the foot-well as you climbed in.

A thick arm immediately draped over the back of your seat. ‘What do I call you then, sweetheart?’

‘Whatever you like.’ You did your best to match his overt flirtatiousness. ‘But my name is y/n.’

‘Bucky. Pleasure to meet you y/n.’

Speeding across the East River beside this perfect stranger, sneaking glances at his stunning profile as the warm wind tousled your hair, you felt so incredibly alive. 

More alive than you’d felt in years.

You drove for a while, the familiar streets of Lower Manhattan falling away, replaced by endless, bustling Brooklyn neighbourhoods. You were in a completely new territory, but it wasn’t as daunting as you expected.

On the contrary, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this excited. 

Bucky eventually parked up in a narrow side street and hopped out. ‘You mind walking a while?’

‘Depends on the destination.’

‘It’s a surprise.’ He rounded the car and pulled your door open, offering you his arm as you climbed out. ‘But it’s a good one.’

Maybe it was his tender smile, or maybe it was your irrational yearning for any kind of new adventure, but you found that you completely trusted him. You let him lead you through this new, unfamiliar landscape, fascinated at how he interacted with his surroundings.

He walked these streets like he owned them.

You came across a group of old men with pompadour hairstyles, tobacco pipes and huge turn-ups on their short sleeves, all gathered around an old chess board outside a barber shop. 

Every single one of them turned to give Bucky a dutiful nod of recognition as the two of you passed by.

A small pack of feral cats ran across your path, heading towards an elderly, dishevelled lady perched on a stone step, who began to hand-feed them. Her clothes were riddled with holes and her scruffy grey hair was scraped into a loose ponytail. 

Bucky greeted her by name, not breaking stride as he reached a five dollar note from his pocket and placed it in her free hand.

‘That your mom?’ You teased him as soon as you’d gotten out of her earshot.

He just chuckled, shooting you a mischievous wink as he snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side.

It took a little while, but you eventually figured out that he was leading you towards Coney Island. Not exactly what you’d expected, but you’d never been before, and it definitely beat being murdered in an alleyway. 

The bright, flashing circus lights illuminated the late evening’s gloom. The jolly music and crowd of merry revellers, combined with the feeling of a strong hand dancing zealously over your hip, made your lips curl into a wide grin.

Bucky insisted on showing you his skills at the Davy Crockett rifle range. On his first try he won a miniature cowboy hat, which he flat-out refused to wear despite your hounding, and which he eventually gifted to a small boy beside him who was struggling to hit any of the targets.

You reluctantly had a try and turned out to be even more hopeless than you’d anticipated. You only managed to hit something when Bucky basically took the shot for you, his chest pressed against your back while his arms lay on top of yours, warm breath fanning over the back of your neck as he pulled the trigger.

After the two of you had spent a good few hours messing around in the arcade, he bought a couple sodas and some doughnuts to eat on the beach.

Sitting on the sand, watching the glimmering sun set over the sea, you felt comfortable enough to ask him something you’d been dying to know all evening.

‘So, why me?’ He turned to you with a quizzical look, wiping the sugar from his lips when he noticed you giggle slightly. ‘I’ll bet hundreds of pretty girls walked past you on 2nd before I showed up.’

‘You looked a little miserable, thought maybe I could cheer you up.’

‘I see. You make a habit of picking up down and outs on street corners?’

‘Occasionally.’ That answer surprised you a little, making one of your eyebrows jump halfway up your forehead. ‘But most of the time they just use me for a free ride over the bridge and then steal my meter change on the way out.

A faint chuckle escaped your lips. ‘Smart ladies.’

The night was slowly closing in, streetlights flickered into life one by one as the two of you strolled back towards his car, laughing together with hands intertwined.

He opened the passenger door for you, shooting you a sinful smirk which made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The car rocked slightly when he jumped in beside you.

‘You taking me home?’

His head spun towards you as the engine roared into life. ‘Nope.’

The mustang eventually rolled to a stop in a quiet, wooded area. There was one other car, parked far enough away that you couldn’t tell if it was occupied. Once Bucky had clicked the headlights off, you could see a faint view of the city through the dense trees.

‘Here we go.’ You folded your arms in reluctant acceptance. ‘My parents warned me that if I moved to New York I’d get murdered.’

‘Mhmm. As soon as I saw you in the street I knew you’d fit perfectly in my trunk.’

The two of you chuckled as he pulled out his pack of Lucky Strikes, passing you one before flicking open his lighter. Watching him light up, his lips gently puckered around the cigarette while the reflection of the small flame glistened in his eyes, you felt your heart thump a little harder and your breathing become a little more laboured.

‘Why were you so down, anyway?’

His question snapped you out of your hypnosis. ‘I don’t know, I guess I was just thinking about how life in the big city isn’t panning out exactly how I’d hoped.’

‘I reckon you think too much.’ He kept his gaze fixed towards the windscreen as his arm snaked around your shoulders. ‘Sometimes you just gotta switch off and let life happen.’

‘What d’you think I was doing when I climbed into your car?’

‘Worryin’ that you were gonna get murdered, apparently.’

‘Well you look like the type.’

He turned towards you, chuckling deeply as he dropped his cigarette butt over the side of the car. ‘Oh, I like you.’

‘Thanks.’

The arm that was lying around your shoulder slowly bent back on itself, hand coming to gently stroke a couple fingers over your cheek. The sensation sent hot, searing waves down your spine, making your stomach tense and your toes curl in anticipation.

As he moved a little closer, you found yourself completely transfixed by his eyes, glowing and flickering like blue flames. You kept your gaze fixed on them right up until the last second, right up until his face came so close that your eyelids instinctively fluttered closed.

His lips pressed softly against yours, making your breath hitch before you began to relax, focusing on the sensation of his warm skin against yours and his arms slowly circling your waist.

You weren’t sure how long it took, the minutes really seemed to blur together, but he eventually began tugging you into the backseat, slowly manoeuvring himself to rest between your thighs.

The feeling of his lips and hot breath against your neck made you melt against the leather seats, almost losing yourself in him completely before a stark realisation hit you.

You tapped him on the back, making him swiftly lift his head and catch your gaze.

‘You alright?’

‘Yeah, just- does the roof on this thing go up?’

‘Course.’ He smirked down at you, lowering his face until his mouth was hovering a centimetre above yours. ‘But where’s the fun in that?’


End file.
